


Death Wish

by HonorH



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonorH/pseuds/HonorH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of <i>Ghost Story</i>, Molly goes to Thomas, hoping he'll kill her. Justine has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I've done everything I could think of to mitigate the inherent consent issues that go along with the White Court. I think I succeeded, but I acknowledge that this still could be potentially triggering to some. Please tread carefully.
> 
> Spoilers ahead for everything through _Ghost Story_ and one scene in _Cold Days_.

As it turns out, getting yourself killed when you’re a half-crazy wizard isn’t as easy as you’d think. Believe me, I gave it the ol’ college try, which is ironic, because I’ve never attended college. In fact, the very idea of going to college is kind of a weird one to me, after everything.

Did I mention I’m sort of crazy? Don’t expect me to be anything like linear.

Anyway, I’d tried to get myself killed, but it just didn’t work. Every time I went into a fight, I managed to come out of it more or less intact just because I couldn’t bear to think of what might happen if I didn’t take whatever I was fighting down. So I survived. And wished I hadn’t.

It was seeing Harry again that sent me into – no, I was already in a downward spiral. Seeing him as a ghost, knowing for certain he was dead, cut whatever thread I’d been hanging by. Knowing he and I had really, actually succeeded at getting him killed? As low as I’d been already, I managed to find a lower place.

I considered suicide, but I couldn’t make myself go through with it. Leftover Catholic guilt, not wanting someone to have to tell my parents I’d offed myself, or maybe just sheer masochism always stopped me. I deserved punishment. I couldn’t take the easy way out.

And then, I realized I didn’t have to. There was someone out there who loved Harry as much as I did. Someone who had the right to kill me for what I’d done. Someone who could do it if he chose to, and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

So I washed myself as best I could in a gas station bathroom and put on the cleanest clothes I owned.

I had a date.

***

The woman at the security desk was clearly not liking the idea of me being in the building, but Thomas vouched for me, and she reluctantly pointed out the elevators. I brushed by her, not caring.

Thomas Raith was Harry’s half-brother and a White Court vampire. He had supernatural speed and strength, not to mention the ability to mind-whammy just about anyone, especially straight women, into mindless lust and letting him suck their life out during sex. Not every supernatural creature could take on a wizard and have a chance of winning. Thomas could.

Not that I was about to offer much resistance. I even wore a skirt. Easy access.

Thomas opened the door to his apartment. “Molly, what-”

I brushed by him, feeling his apartment’s threshold take a chunk of my power as I entered. I figured I could do without it.

“I have something to tell you about Harry’s death,” I said. Despite everything, my voice broke a little on the last word.

I could feel Thomas’s emotions shift, edging toward rage. “You know the bastard that did it?”

“Bitch. The bitch,” I corrected.

Thomas huffed out a breath. “Figures, with Harry. Who’s the bitch, then, and what’s her address?”

I turned to face him, and was again struck by how attractive he was. He looked like he’d recently gotten out of the shower, the curls of his shoulder-length hair still slightly damp. He wore a loose-knit, long-sleeved tee of some un-dyed, probably very expensive, material, and jeans that fit him very well. Energized by anger, eyes flashing silver, he was inhumanly beautiful. Though I wasn’t picky about how he killed me, at that moment, I was hoping for “sucking the life out of me during sex.”

I drew in a breath and let him have it. “Me. I’m the reason your brother is dead.”

His reaction wasn’t what I’d hoped for. The silver faded from his eyes, and he looked at me in confusion.

“No,” he said after a moment. “You wouldn’t have killed him. You loved him too much.”

His words hit me like being stabbed with an icicle. The breath went right out of me, and I found myself struggling to just stay upright.

Thomas moved closer. “What’s really going on, Molly?”

I clenched my fists and lifted my chin, trying to face him. “I-I killed him. If I hadn’t . . .”

And I couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t be the one to explain that his brother had committed suicide.

I struggled on. “I’m responsible, Thomas. I got him killed. You have the right to kill me for what I did, so just do it, okay?”

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling as he looked at me. It was hard to separate out his feelings from the chaos of mine, and he wasn’t giving much away through body language. He’d gone statue-still in a way no human could.

After a moment, he said, “This thing you did that supposedly got Harry killed – was it something he asked you to do?”

I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded. It didn’t even occur to me to lie to him in that moment.

“Something stupid?”

It nearly broke me to nod again. Harry, you great, flaming idiot.

Thomas sighed. “I’m not going to kill you, Molly.”

The compassion that flowed out of him with that sentence all but broke me. “Damn it, Thomas. I’ve done things, bad things. Killed people. I just want it to end. End it, please.”

“No,” he said again. “You’ve done bad things. I’ve done worse. You’ve killed people? Start counting the bodies you’ve left in your wake, and I’ll start counting those I’ve left in mine. See who finishes first. I’m not your judge, I’m not a jury, and I’m sure as hell not going to be your executioner.” He took a deep breath. “You need help, not judgment. Stupid as my brother might have been, he’d have hated to see you like this.”

He moved a step closer, reaching out as if to try to comfort me – and stopped short. He wasn’t going to touch me, and I knew why. Touching me, in the vulnerable state I was in, could trigger his demon, his Hunger. 

If I could do that, remind him he was a predator and I was prey, I thought it might get me what I wanted. Yeah, it would be a nasty thing to do to Thomas, who’d always been kind to me, but I’ve done worse. Much worse.

Before I could put any kind of plan together, though, we were interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock. I couldn’t see the door clearly from where we were, but Thomas wasn’t acting like the visitor was unexpected.

“Thomas, love?” a woman’s voice called, and bags rustled as she moved into the kitchen. “I picked up some Italian. Kerri called and said she won’t be able to make it over tonight – she thinks she’s coming down with the flu – so I thought maybe we could call Mara or Charlene, depending on how – oh. Who’s this?”

The woman who emerged from the kitchen could only be Justine, Thomas’s star-crossed lover. I’d never met her, but Harry had once described her to me, and she was just as gorgeous as he’d said. She could’ve easily been a model. Her face and figure were what some women spent fortunes to try to achieve, and she was crowned with pure white hair, pulled back into a neat twist. She was wearing a light gray shift dress with a ‘50s style wide-collared white jacket over it, and a pair of pumps and white gloves finished the look.

Now, there’s a certain protocol when a woman enters her boyfriend’s apartment and discovers another woman there. If you’re low-class, you can just go for her throat, but the Gold Coast isn’t the place for such things. You’re supposed to eye the interloper with suspicion, keeping a polite smile on your face, and begin a round of Alpha Female Posturing. The guy, meanwhile, should be sheepish with a side of panic.

Maybe it was because I resembled something the cat refused to drag in, but Justine merely looked curious. Thomas just looked relieved.

“Justine,” he said, the way a man might say “water” after being lost in Death Valley. He went to her, took her gloved hands, and kissed them both. As he did so, a wave of emotion from both of them hit me. It was yearning, a need to touch and be touched.

It had been so long since I’d been touched. Most of the time, I didn’t even want anyone touching me, but their need, their love, woke that longing in me.

Thomas took a deep breath. “Justine, this is Molly Carpenter. She’s – she was Harry’s apprentice.”

Justine’s dark eyes betrayed nothing but compassion as she walked over to me. In her heels, she was almost my height. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and enfolded me in her arms. “You must be hurting so much.”

It was actually painful to be the object of her compassion. There was no way I deserved it. Yet it still took all my strength to pull away from her hug.

“I need to go,” I said. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, don’t,” said Justine, grabbing my hands. “You’re shaking, and your hands are like ice. Honey, you don’t look so good. At least eat dinner with us; I got enough for three.”

It says something about my mental state that I forgot completely about not making eye contact. I looked at Justine, at her eyes . . . and almost immediately fell into a soulgaze.

Her soul wasn’t just hers. Thomas was everywhere. I felt her love for him, her pain at being separated from him. And I saw the chunks he’d taken out of her soul. I saw how much she’d given to him. He had already shortened her natural life, and she would gladly give him more.

I also saw what she got from him. The madness that tormented her was chained and kept weak by him. He gave her the ability to think clearly without her emotions overwhelming her reason. For that alone, she was devoted to him. Love had grown out of that devotion, a love so strong she’d have given her life to save his, as he’d have given his life for hers.

That much, I’d seen when I’d soulgazed Thomas before Chichen Itza. He hated being separated from her, hated having nearly killed her, hated how much he still desired her. For all the pain, though, he still loved her beyond reason.

Justine and I came out of the soulgaze with a mutual gasp. I expected her to scream or faint or at least back far away from me.

Instead, I was met with another wave of pure compassion, and her eyes overflowed with tears. She looked back at Thomas.

“We have to help her, love,” she said. “Her mind, all the emotions . . . we can help her. You can help her.”

Thomas’s perfect brow furrowed. “What do you . . . oh, no. No. No. Not going to happen.” He crossed his arms and started to pace like a caged animal.

“She needs us,” Justine insisted. She turned back to me and gently directed me to sit on the couch with her. I was too exhausted and overwhelmed to do anything but what she wanted. “Molly, did Harry ever tell you about Thomas and me?”

I nodded. “Yeah. You can’t touch.”

“Right. But there’s a work-around. I’ll bring a friend over and have sex with her, and then Thomas can touch me. He’ll feed off of me and sometimes her.” Justine’s tone was very matter-of-fact, which I supposed made sense since she’d been neck-deep in the White Court for years. She was holding one of my hands, which she rubbed gently as she spoke. “The thing about being fed on . . . it quiets the mind. I’ve had mental, well, issues since I was in my teens. With Thomas, I don’t have to take medication.”

“Justine.” Thomas’s voice held a plea. “It’s a bad idea. Could very well be the worst idea ever.”

Justine persisted. “It’ll help her, though. Can’t you see she’s at the end of her rope?”

“Of course I can,” he growled, and his eyes had gone light gray. Attraction, need, punched me in the gut again. “She’s incredibly vulnerable right now, and there’s a big part of me that’s screaming to swallow her whole.” He shook his head, eyes darkening as he fought his demon down. “I won’t do that. Harry would go apeshit.”

“But he’s not here.” Justine’s voice was gentle. “And you, my love, are well fed. You won’t take too much, especially with me here. Harry’s apprentice needs your help. Our help. She can’t go on like this. She’ll die. That’s not what he’d want.”

She turned back to me, brushing my hair off of my face, gently stroking my cheek and neck with her gloved hand. “Listen to me, Molly: If you don’t want to do this, you can still stay here. Eat with us, sleep on the couch tonight. But if you do want to, you can give yourself up to us. Just for tonight, forget everything else. Let us make you feel good. Let Thomas take the worst of the pain, the confusion, from you.” Justine drew my head down to her shoulder. “We can help you, if you’ll let us.”

She was warm, her touch soft, her voice gentle and sensual in my ear, and it was more of a seduction than all the supernatural allure I’d ever felt from Thomas. I didn’t deserve her compassion or the comfort she was offering me, but I wanted it. God, how I wanted it.

Thomas let out a long hiss of breath. “This is a bad idea,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “but all right. If you want, Molly, we’ll do this.” He turned to look at me. “There are conditions, though.”

I found my voice. “All right.”

Justine was right. I was at the end of my rope. I’d lost everything, even my pride. Pride would’ve insisted that I get what I deserved, which was death. Pride would’ve left the apartment, unable to accept even a moment’s comfort.

I had no pride left, and I was too weak to turn away from what they were offering. I’d found rock bottom.

Thomas shook his head. “I must be insane.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s eat dinner.”

“I’m not sure I can eat,” I said.

“Too bad.” Thomas’s voice was clipped. “That’s the first condition. You eat, or I don’t. Your energy is way too low. I could do serious damage to you in your condition. I’d sooner wait until you’ve had a couple of good meals and a full night’s sleep, but that would allow too much time for my common sense to kick in. Now or never. Your call.” He walked away, heading into the kitchen.

“Come on,” said Justine, and she helped me to my feet. “You’ll feel better for some food.”

I let her lead me to the kitchen table, where Thomas was taking the food she’d brought out of the bags. It smelled amazing. There was Caesar salad, linguine with clam sauce, lasagna and garlic bread. Justine fetched some plates while Thomas grabbed three bottles of Mac’s beer from his fridge.

Once we sat down and dished up, I discovered I did have an appetite after all. Everything was delicious, even though the lasagna was nowhere near as good as my mother’s.

That was a reminder I didn’t need. I stuffed down all thoughts of my family and concentrated on filling my empty stomach.

“So, conditions,” Thomas said when I came up for air. “Next: This is a one-off. I won’t have you getting addicted. It’s the least I can do for my idiot little brother. And if I find out you’re going to other White Court vampires, I’ll let it be known that I’ve put a claim on you. There aren’t many who’ll cross me.”

That was annoying. “Put a claim on me? Nobody owns me, Raith.”

He smirked. “And you want to be owned so very badly.”

A shiver of pure arousal crawled down my spine. Thomas had seen my soul. His demon had touched me. It knew my deepest, darkest fantasies, the ones I barely admitted to myself. For all the playing around I’d done during my teenage years, I’d always kept to the shallow end of kink. I’d never let anyone else have control, not really. And I knew, in that moment, that Thomas could own me. That I’d let him. That he could make me beg him to.

Thomas looked away, breaking the moment. He twirled some linguine around his fork and fed it to Justine, who was on my other side. It should have been a saccharine gesture, but it wasn’t. Not with the softness in his eyes.

“That’s not what tonight is about,” he said after a moment. “I like you, Molly. I like your spirit. If Justine’s right, I might be able to help you to regain some of that. But I’d be lying if I said my motivations are purely altruistic. That’s why it’s important for us to set boundaries now. Once things get going, you won’t be in any condition to look out for your own best interests. So, that said, can you think of anything you wouldn’t give consent to?”

I flushed and took a pull of my beer to cover the awkward silence. “Um, I don’t think so.”

Thomas looked at me thoughtfully. “Limited experience. It’s understandable, seeing as you’re at least technically still a virgin.”

“And to think I thought this conversation couldn’t get more awkward,” I muttered.

Justine laughed, not unkindly. “Nothing to be ashamed of. And a bit more common than you’d think, even among the bi-curious set.”

It wasn’t that comforting, largely because of why I was still a technical virgin. I’d dated quite a bit – well, whenever I got the chance between apocalypses – but I’d always managed to find a reason to dump the guy before things got to that stage. It wasn’t just leftover Catholic guilt, either. I wasn’t saving myself for marriage.

I’d been saving myself for Harry. How pathetic was that?

Thomas waved the conversation aside. “We’ll keep things pretty basic. Last condition, and this is the really important one.” He leaned forward, eyes on mine. “Your mother never, ever finds out about this.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, a real, genuine laugh, for the first time since Harry’s death.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, though he had laughter in his eyes, too. “I don’t want to have to be checking over my shoulder for an enraged woman with a big, big hammer.”

I snorted at the mental image. “This is hardly the sort of thing I’d talk to her about.” I poked my fork at a stray piece of mozzarella on my plate. “It’s not like I talk to my parents at all these days. Not with everything I’ve done.”

“Because you’re afraid they wouldn’t forgive you?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. “Because I know they would.”

Unexpectedly, Thomas’s hand covered mine. It was a gesture of friendship, nothing more, and there was empathy in his eyes. “Yeah, being forgiven . . . that can be a hard thing.” He looked past me to Justine, whom he’d nearly killed once.

They were both so beautiful. So perfect. I felt pathetic, coming to them with my too-thin, battered body, which I’d neglected for months. I was aware my sponge bath hadn’t done me much good. My hair was greasy, and I was sure I had ground-in Stank from living on the streets.

“Um, could I . . .” I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Could I maybe take a shower?”

Was that relief I saw in Thomas’s eyes? “Of course. Justine can show you where we keep guest supplies.”

Justine took my hand and led me to the luxurious bathroom, where she opened a cupboard. “Here’s where we keep extra toiletries for our overnight guests. Feel free to use anything. Towels are underneath, and you can put on the kimono hanging on the side when you’re done.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek and turned to go. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be back in to brush my teeth in a bit.”

“You don’t have to go, you know,” I said. “I mean . . . considering what we’re going to do and all, it would be silly of me to get all modest now.”

Justine smiled at me, amused but not mocking. “But getting undressed is one of the best parts. It’s like unwrapping presents.”

“Not sure I’m much of a gift,” I muttered. “Look, Justine . . . if you’re doing this out of pity, just call one of your friends. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“This isn’t pity, Molly. It’s understanding.” Justine shed her gloves and took my hands. “Yes, I feel that we can help you, and I want to. But I’ve also seen your soul. Whatever you may think of yourself, there’s still something very beautiful about it. Something attractive.” She caressed my face. “You’re a beautiful girl. Trust me, I’m looking forward to this, too.” She looked at me, considering. “Are you okay with the idea of being with a woman?”

I started blushing again. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and I’ve always, well, wondered what it would be like . . .”

She gave a soft chuckle and kissed me. Gently, but with passion. And I felt, in her emotions, both compassion and desire. For me.

It had been so long since I was touched.

I made an involuntary noise of denial as she pulled away, and she smiled. “Soon,” she promised, and left.

In the middle of shedding my clothes for the shower, it hit me: I was about to have sex.

Outside of marriage.

With a woman.

And a vampire.

I wasn’t sure how many more of the taboos instilled in me from childhood I could break without involving domestic livestock. I was about to get in bed with Thomas Raith, who was pure sex, and his gorgeous girlfriend.

Shaking my head, I discarded my clothes and got into the shower. The hot water was a pleasure that distracted me from thinking too much, and I luxuriated in lathering up my hair. I washed every inch of my skin, scrubbing away the grime that had become another part of my armor against the world. I even shaved my pits and legs.

During my shower, Justine came in and ran water in a sink for a while, probably washing her face and brushing her teeth. I could see when she let down her hair.

I could feel her anticipation, a low-burning thrill.

After she left the bathroom, I shut off the shower and toweled off. Then I brushed my teeth and blew my hair dry. I considered myself in the mirror as I did so. My ribs were showing, but at least I still had breasts, though they weren’t as impressive as they’d been when I was nineteen. Ugly bruises discolored my torso, arms and legs, leftovers of Lea’s lessons and my own fights, and on my leg was the deep scar from the bullet I’d taken at Chichen Itza. I definitely wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests, but, overall, I decided it could’ve been worse. At least I was clean. Justine and Thomas would have to be pretty enough to compensate for me.

Drawing in a deep breath, I put on the red-and-white kimono Thomas and Justine kept for guests and exited the bathroom.

They were seated in the living room, Justine reclining on the couch and Thomas sitting on the floor in front of her. She had her gloves on again. He held one of her hands while the other carded affectionately through his hair. It was a scene of perfect comfort between lovers . . . except for the fact that they couldn’t touch each other. They were happy in each other’s company, but I could feel their desperation to touch.

I took a few steps toward them, my bare feet making little noise. They looked up to see me at the same moment. Thomas’s eyes had gone a light gray, and my breath caught in my throat.

Justine stood and walked to me, her movements confident and naturally sensual. What I’d pretended to be so many times, she actually was. I wanted Thomas, always had, but I suddenly found myself looking very much forward to finding out what sex with Justine would be like.

She kissed me lightly and took me by the hand, leading me to the spacious, elegant bedroom. Thomas breezed in behind us, drawing the door closed. He went straight to Justine.

She pulled her hair off to one side so he could unzip her dress. He placed a hand at her waist as he slowly drew the zip down, inhaling deeply. I saw her tremble. Then he moved around front of her and knelt down, pulling the simple sheath dress from her body. It fell with a sigh, revealing a pale pink bra and panties. He just knelt there for a moment, like a supplicant at an altar.

It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

Then he stood, and they both focused their attention on me.

Being around Thomas is enough to make any reasonably straight girl horny. What I was feeling went a country mile beyond that. It was only through an effort of will that I stopped myself from throwing myself right at him. _Soon_ , I told myself. _Soon_.

He walked around me, casually stripping off his shirt and dropping it on the floor. I automatically turned to watch him, but he hissed, “Watch her.”

I turned back to Justine, who approached me head on, her smoky eyes locked on mine. Behind me, Thomas’s breath stirred my hair, and his hands touched my silk-covered shoulders. Some sort of desperate sound escaped my throat. I felt like I was going to explode from sheer need.

Justine took my face in her hands and kissed me. As she deepened the kiss, she ran her hands down my front, caressing me lightly through the silk of the kimono, and untied the belt. I barely even noticed when Thomas pulled the kimono away and let it drop to the floor.

I did notice when his fingers trailed, ever so lightly, down the bare skin of my back. A shock of pure pleasure ran through my body, and I broke the kiss with Justine, crying out. My legs lost all their strength and I nearly went down, but Justine maneuvered me to sit on the side of the bed.

“Breathe,” she said, and I gulped in air.

It took me a few seconds to regain anything like linear thought. When I had, Thomas was gone from my line of sight, but I could feel him in the room, watching. And I knew he wanted me to keep my eyes on Justine. I don’t know how I knew that. It might’ve been my own sensitivity, it might’ve been his White Court mind-bending powers, but he wanted the focus to be on Justine in that moment.

I obeyed. Her eyes darkened suddenly with concern, and she reached out to touch one of my bruises.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Always,” I answered. “It’s not important right now. Please. I need this.”

Justine leaned in and kissed my bruised shoulder, and then she stepped back, discarding her gloves and unhooking her bra. She let it fall to the floor, revealing firm, shapely breasts. The panties went next.

She was beautiful, perfect as a statue in marble, but warm and alive. I wanted to feel her skin under my hands, her body against mine.

“This part is easy,” Justine whispered as she slid onto the bed, drawing me from the edge. “It’s the wonderful thing about being with a woman. Just touch me the way you like to be touched.”

So I did. We were both sitting up, and I pulled her into my arms, kissing her, enjoying the feeling of her breasts against my own. She tasted of mint and her hair smelled of strawberries, and she was as warm as summer.

The bed moved slightly as Thomas settled next to us, naked and unashamed – and very aroused. His eyes had gone almost reflective, and his smile as he watched us could have seduced a saint. I felt an overwhelming desire to please him, to please Justine.

I turned back to her, pulling her closer and trailing kisses down her neck. I slid my right hand up her body and molded it to one of her perfect breasts. Her breathy moan was all the encouragement I needed. She arched back, and my mouth found the nipple of her right breast.

Justine had practically mounted my thigh, grinding against it, so I reached down and pressed one hand between her legs.

“Like that,” she whispered. “Inside me, beautiful girl.”

Two of my fingers slid easily inside her, and I pressed the base of my thumb against her clit. She whispered encouragement as she rode my hand, and I thrust my fingers deeper into her, lavishing kisses over all the skin I could reach.

It wasn’t long before she broke, crying out, her muscles clamping around my fingers. She pulled back a little, breathing hard, and kissed me deep and long.

“Very good,” she said. Her skin was flushed, her eyes glowing, and I felt a moment of pride that I’d made her look that way. She smiled in an almost predatory manner. “Now it’s my turn to play.”

She pushed me back, guiding me to lie down under her. For a moment, she rested against me, her mouth pressed to mine in a deep, hungry kiss. Then she began to trail kisses down my jaw and neck. Her hands caressed my body, followed by her mouth, and I writhed beneath her, desire having gone all the way to need. She stopped briefly at my breasts, plying my nipples with her tongue, and continued downward, where she took a brief detour to kiss the scar on my leg.

And then her head dipped between my legs. As her tongue slid into me, I moaned so loud the neighbors must have heard it. Oral sex wasn’t anything I’d ever received before (Teenage boys aren’t shy about demanding it, but they won’t give it. Jerks.), so I had no comparison, but I thought it a safe bet that Justine was good at it. Very, very good. I gave up trying to think and gave myself over to sensation, to her mouth teasing and pleasuring me, to one finger, then two, sliding deep within my body . . .

The bed shifted slightly, and Thomas took my hand. I turned and watched as he, eyes gone completely silver, slid the two fingers that had been inside Justine into his mouth. And I came so hard I saw stars.

When my brain resumed functioning, he and Justine were in each other’s arms, kissing like they’d never get another chance. His hands were slipping over all the skin he could touch, and she was holding him like she couldn’t get close enough.

They could touch each other because of what Justine and I had just done, and it was a curiously satisfying realization. I might have given up on finding love, but for now, being adjacent to it was enough.

Justine reluctantly pulled away, glancing in my direction, and moved to lie down on the other side of the bed. Then Thomas turned his full attention on me.

It was an almost physical force. Suddenly, the heavy, loose satiation from my orgasm was gone, and the screaming need was back. I’d thought Thomas was pure sex before. I was wrong. In that moment, giving in to his Hunger, every line of his body, every inch of his skin, radiated lust. And I was its focus.

He pounced. One moment, he was kneeling at the foot of the bed. The next, he was hovering over me, not quite touching me, with his hands on either side of my head. I heard myself make a hungry, mewling sound.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” he murmured. “You’re damn near irresistible. Young, beautiful, full of power.” He leaned closer and inhaled, drawing in my scent. “Still sexually naïve in so many ways that you don’t even understand. A little mad. And you have _her_ all over you now.”

He glanced to the side, and I followed it. Justine had settled on her side, watching us, one hand between her thighs. Thomas growled softly at the sight, and the sound sent my arousal to painful levels. If he didn’t take me, I was sure I was going to die.

He laughed softly at the sound I made. “Oh, Molly. You are a dish to be savored. And I will have you.”

His mouth captured mine, and the world went white. For a moment, there was nothing but pure, blinding ecstasy. It slowly receded, leaving silvery threads flickering through my body. Thomas was on me, inside me, and everywhere his skin touched mine felt charged with electricity. Or magic.

“Too much,” I gasped. “Too much.”

“Shh. I know.” Thomas nipped at my ear. “Breathe.”

I made myself inhale deeply. Physical sensation separated itself from his Hunger’s feeding. I could feel him inside me, and there was just a little pain.

“You’d have been disappointed if there wasn’t,” he hissed in my ear, as if he knew what I was thinking.

I didn’t answer – couldn’t, really. Instead, I wrapped myself around him, threading my legs around his and clutching at his shoulders. He chuckled against my neck. Then he pulled out slightly and thrust into me again, and there was no more thinking.

He poured pleasure into me. It traveled up my spine, down my legs and out my toes, out my fingers and through the top of my head. He kept it just shy of the blinding ecstasy of our joining, letting me feel everything. It broke something in me. I heard myself screaming, sobbing. Tears ran down my face and onto the pillow. And as they did, he took away the emotions that overflowed with my tears. The rage, the grief, the confusion. He drank them down, leaving something like peace behind.

When the pleasure finally receded, I was sprawled across his body, my head somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He stroked my hair with a tenderness I wasn’t expecting.

Justine pulled a blanket over us and settled behind me, against Thomas. “Are you back with us, sweetie?” she asked, caressing my shoulder.

I managed to make a sound of affirmation. Speech was still a little beyond me, as was movement. It didn’t matter. My body felt wonderful, and my mind was . . . still. Glassy, like the surface of a calm pond.

I heard Justine and Thomas kissing and felt their contentment at being able to cuddle and sleep together. Happiness ghosted through my mind at that.

“Sleep, Molly,” said Thomas, his voice a little husky. “Things will be better in the morning.”

I slept.

***

Months later, I stood with Thomas on the Whatsup Dock off the island of Demonreach as Harry vanished into the woods. Thomas was as beautiful as ever, but I knew he was keeping a tight rein on his demon. It took the attraction he exuded from “irresistible” to merely “overwhelming”.

“How long have you known?” he asked me. A bit of the raw emotion of seeing his brother alive again still clung to him.

I shook my head. “Not long. Lea told me he was alive and at Arctis Tor, so I made preparations. I didn’t even know if he’d be returning to Chicago. I just . . . hoped.” I looked at Thomas. “I should have told you, I know.”

“Why didn’t you?” There was hurt in his voice, but no anger.

“Because my brain’s still not in tip-top condition.” I shrugged. “And maybe because I was selfish. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while. I’m sorry.”

He let out a long, slow breath, but he nodded. Apology accepted.

After a moment, I asked, “How’s Justine?”

“She’s great.” His smile was just this side of sappy. “It’s weird, but I think we’re actually happier than we’ve ever been now.”

I grinned at him. “Still threesome-ing?”

He actually blushed a little. Put that on my CV: Made a White Court vampire blush. “Well, it is the only way we can be together. She finds nice girls.” He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something more, but didn’t. I could guess.

“It was a good experience, Thomas,” I told him. “It . . . gave me enough stability for long enough that I could start picking myself up and putting it all back together.”

He nodded. “I’m glad. You look good, Molly. Justine will be happy to know you’re okay.”

“I know. She’s a good person, Thomas. This will sound weird, but seeing her soul . . . she actually reminds me a little of my mom, in a way. She has a core of steel to her.”

“That she does,” he agreed. “Um, speaking of people who should never, ever know . . .”

“Harry will never find out,” I said quickly.

He shuddered. “I don’t want the last word I ever hear to be ‘ _Fuego_!’”

I laughed. “The big idiot. I love him, but he is such an idiot.”

“That he is.” Thomas sobered. “Molly, what happened? I know he tried to kill himself. I’m pretty sure you know more than you told me that night. How were you involved?”

It wasn’t something I liked thinking about, but I told him everything I knew. The guilt, pain and depression still lurked in my mind, ready to pounce again. I kept them at bay with work and meditation, but I wasn’t sure they’d ever be gone.

Thomas was silent for a long moment after I told him. “Do you know who he hired to do the deed?” he finally asked.

I shook my head. “If I were to guess, I’d say Kincaid. But I can’t be sure.” I swallowed. “Um, Thomas? You should know that . . . the mantle of the Winter Knight might already be changing him. His emotions are, well, louder? It’s like something’s ramped up his testosterone.”

Thomas looked out at the island for a long moment, and he nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on him. Pull him back if he starts going too far.” He looked back at me. “It’s what he’d do for us.”

I nodded. I owed Harry that much. And I owed Thomas, who’d pulled me back from the brink not long before.

Somehow, I felt it was going to be a long, long winter.


End file.
